


Common Knowledge

by Elucreh



Category: CW Network RPF, J2 - Fandom
Genre: M/M, metafic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elucreh/pseuds/Elucreh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared, your fangirls. Fangirls, I believe you already know Jared. Better than he knows himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Con-Going Fangirl

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, they belong to each other. Extended notes following epilogue.
> 
>  
> 
> SPECIAL NOTE: Opengoal has kindly [translated this fic into Chinese!](http://opengoal.livejournal.com/70442.html) If you are more comfortable reading it in that language, I recommend that you click the above link. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER ONE: The Con-Going Fangirl**

Jared actually kind of likes conventions. Yeah, they're work, and they're tiring, but he likes talking to the fans, likes watching them smile at each other over inside jokes and jump up and down when they see the new publicity stuff. If there's anything Eric's taught him, it's an awareness of—a respect for—the community they've created out there.

There's also the way his dynamic with Jensen changes. The way Jensen relies on him and relaxes around him and depends on him to act as a public shield that's completely different from their everyday friendship, but Jared doesn't dwell on that. He just likes conventions, really.

He especially likes this one, because he's got an out.

The worst part of conventions has always been being cooped up, behind bodyguards or in his suite. Jared's a man of action, and he gets restless. Jensen copes better—he's better at entertaining himself, and he's a lot more uncomfortable out in the open (especially since the mad attack), but Jared wants to be _out there_, wants to be in on the action.

This time, he can be. He spotted a little niche in the hotel lobby, with a big potted evergreen almost in front of it, and a chair tucked into it. He was a little hesitant to try it at first, this hiding behind a plant thing—the internet still isn't quite over the ball cap from Jensen's play—but it's worked out so far. A few of the fans have spotted him, but mostly they just come over and talk for a little while. Maybe there are a few crazies out there, but like Eric says—most of their fans are smart, great people. It's a little weird to have complete strangers ask about Megan, but almost all of them ask about Harley and Sadie, and Jared loves to talk about his babies.

It's interesting, too, to watch the fangirls when they don't know he's watching, like experiencing a new culture. He's making a list of words to figure out later: "otipi," and "pixpam," and "capping," and "arpeayes." He's especially curious about the meaning of "elljay,", because it seems to be some kind of sign-countersign ritual.

A pair of fans will bump into each other, smile, introduce themselves, and then—nine times in ten—the next question outta their mouths is, "What's your elljay?" If the other girl says she doesn't have one, the first one will smile and make polite conversation, but if the answer is, "I'm Deansgirl27," the squealing starts. "Ohmigod, I'm Babyimpala, I've been dying to meet you!" And Deansgirl27 will squeal too and they'll jump up and down and hug each other, his face smashed up against Jensen's between two sets of boobs.

The girl sitting nearest him now has one of the old WB upfront pictures stickered to the front of her laptop, and she's been sitting there for half an hour or so, absently humming something cheerful that's pretty obviously stuck in her head. La-la-la-LA-la-la-la-LAAAA. After half an hour, it's pretty much stuck in Jared's, too.

As she starts in on another round of what he thinks is the chorus, another girl walks past, but she stops and grins when she hears the humming, and sings, in tune, "--even though the characters are brotherrss..."

Laptop Girl looks up and there's one of those eyebrow conversations that girls seem to have a lot. Both of them grin and Laptop Girl joins in with, "Jensen's prettier than your average guy, which is why he's slept with almost everyone in show biz, except Christian Kane, because Chris? They're like brothers, and hey—anyway..."

Both of them of them crack up, which is handy, because Jared doesn't think he can hold in the snickering much longer himself. This? This is hilarious. The fangirls have songs about how _pretty_ and _slutty_...Jared bites his lip to quiet himself down.

The girls've done their passcode thing, and apparently both of them passed, because they're hugging and talking a mile a minute. "We should totally get everybody together and sing it."

"_Totally_."

"The conference room's got a block free tonight."

"Does anybody have a guitar, do you know?"

"I think Jaytufor brought hers--"

"She's here? I haven't seen her yet."

"Really? I know she wanted to meet you...but you'll see her tonight."

"Ee! So you'll help me spread the word? Seven o'clock?"

"Yay!"

And they hug again before New Arrival takes off.


	2. Filk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to understand this chapter, you will need to be familiar with "The Ballad of Jared and Jensen." If you are not yet familiar with it, you can go to [the artist's journal](http://seedyapartment.livejournal.com/480684.html) to download it or [here](http://www.geocities.com/crazy_girl31_2002/tnt_dynamitevids.html) to watch the fanvid to it. (Scroll down.)

This convention sucks.

Jensen does cons the same way he does a lot of other things for his job—dutifully and as cheerfully as he can manage. After all, most of the fangirls are nice and they're why he has a job, a great job—he owes them a lot, certainly to be polite when they come to see him. But he isn't comfortable as the focus of so much attention, and that crazy girl who jumped him, now that was just _freaky_. The only good thing about them, as far as Jensen's concerned, is Jared.

Jared knows how edgy these things make him, and usually he sticks to Jensen like a burr, the sort of combination bodyguard and support system that's normally only achievable by German Shepherds. Jensen has his friend's attention to himself at these things in a way he can't usually get—he doesn't have to share Jared with Dean, or pretty bar girls, or a freaking PS2, and Jared's so determined to make it easier on him that he's focused on Jensen all the time. Not that Jensen has any special reason for wanting Jared's attention, but it's good to spend time with his best friend. Even in front of the crowds, Jared's got one eye on him, and when they aren't doing their thing the two of them hang out in each other's suites and—you know—bond.

But this time Jared's figured someplace else to be, a way he can be in the convention but not overwhelmed by the convention, and Jensen's spending a lot of time on his own with a paperback.

Which is why he grumbles a little to himself when the connecting door between their suites rattles with Jared's cheerful pounding.

"Dinner!" Jared announces with a broad grin. It's a little blinding, and Jensen squints at him.

"Dude, I realize you worry about losing all those womanly curves, but even you aren't usually this excited to eat. What gives?"

"Screw you. Where's the menu?"

"What, you wanna eat _right this second_?"

"Pretty much."

"...Okay then." Jensen waves him toward the nightstand, with the phone. Jared bounds over and scrabbles the receiver off the hook, dialing the room service number.

"Burgers good?"

"Sure." Jensen's eying his costar warily now. Jared's hyper, jiggly and grinning, but he's speaking in two-word sentences when he could stretch them to maybe thirty-five. The last time he was this excited _and_ this quiet it ended in...

"_Jared_?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is there a jar of peanut butter anywhere in your possession?"

"No, man, why?"

"Never mind." But Jensen's suspicions aren't much allayed, especially when Jared's conversation stays succinct all through dinner, and _especially_ when Jared has "something to show him" and drags him out into the public areas of the hotel.

When Jared pulls him into the conference room—which has an ominous neon paper sign on it that he passes too fast to read, although he _does_ see "seven o'clock", which is in _fifteen freaking minutes_, what the hell—Jensen feebly tries to put his foot down. Jared just shoves him toward the supply closet at the end of the room and says, "If you don't get in there and shut up I swear to God I will shout, 'Oh my god, it's Jensen,' lock you in, and run like hell." And whatever happened to Jared's awareness of his weaknesses at conventions being a _good_ thing?

Jared's a bastard.

Resigned, Jensen shoves his way into the closet and fights for balance with his elbows as Jared pushes in behind him and shuts the door. "Seriously, man, _what_\--"

But Jared covers his mouth—more like half his _face_\--with one hand and hisses, "Sssshh. I want you to hear this."

And Jensen's trying to figure out the best possible move to get that paw off of him when he hears the unmistakable squeal of the Wild Fangirl Mating Call, and starts maneuvering to get Jared between him and the door instead.

He can feel Jared's shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Bastard.

The room fills up with chatter and squeals, most of it lost in the general murmur, but they settle down pretty quickly when the mike screeches. "Everybody? Hey, I'm Laura—you probably know me as BitchfaceTM--" she has to stop while they scream their approval--"and if you're here, you probably know why. Before we get going, I want to thank Sammysweetheart for helping me spread the word--" applause-- "and J24eva for agreeing to play for us tonight." More cheers. "Stick around after—we've got the room for half an hour, we can swap rex and bunnies," and Jensen mentally curses Jared again--because this closet is getting fucking _close_ already—and the fangirls, because who the hell trades rodents anyway?

"And now, because Virginia rocks--" and the crowd is getting steadily more excited--"and because every fandom needs an anthem--" oh, Christ, this is going to be bad--"please join me in singing The Ballad." A guitar chord is struck.

"_This is the story of two straight men  
They're straight, they swear, except for when  
They meet each other and Jared's so _pretty_ and so is Jen...  
So they can't really help it  
But here it goes, you guys, here's my love story--" _

Crammed up against him in the closet, Jared freezes, and Jensen thinks, _Wait. What?_

*~*~*

Jared listens to the song in a kind of horrified fascination, as it talks about Sandy and candy and dogs, as it talks about Eric's suspicious amounts of tension between Sam and Dean (which is, he has to admit, a fair argument), and then they get to the verse he heard, and the very next line is _Jensen and Jared are in love_. All he can think is that you should read the contents of the box before you open it, and also that fangirls were sent from hell to torment him by not finishing their songs when they sing them in public. By the time they're singing something about Chad his brain's more paralyzed than that, four-letter words pounding solitary in his head in time with his heartbeat. _FuckshitogoddamnfuckfuckFUCK_...

After the laughter and cheering dies down there's a lot of chatter, mercifully incoherent, while he holds himself frozen outside of Jensen's space and worst-case scenarios run through his head, and then the fangirls drift off until the room is as silent as a grave.

"Jay?" Jensen's voice comes to him quietly out of the darkness of the closet. "You, uh—you trying to tell me something?"

And oh, shit, he hadn't thought of that.

*~*~*

After his question, the silence stretches between them, and Jensen can't tell which way it's going to snap. In the end, he lifts a hand to Jared's shoulder. "Jared?"

"I swear, man, I hadn't heard the whole thing." Jared's babbling now that his mouth has been switched back on, waving his huge hands wildly, and Jensen's hand falls. "I'd only heard the part about you, I thought it would just show you not all of them think you're some kinda god, knock you down a peg, I had _no idea_\--"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jensen says, feeling like he's handling a spooked horse, or one of the babies post-lamp crisis. "I believe you, calm _down_, fucktard," and he throws a friendly punch at Jared's stomach for good measure. "God, you know me better than to think I was gonna fly off the handle, even if you were totally hot for me."

"Yeah, you wish, fucker," Jared shoots back, his voice the same as it's been a thousand other times they've shared this joke, and then it goes heavy with relief. "Serve you right if the love of your life made his first move in a janitor's closet."

"Brad Pitt has way more class than that," Jensen shoots back, and shoves Jared out the door.


	3. Fanreports

Jared doesn't sleep much.

It's not like Chad and Mike haven't taken immeasurable delight in sending him links to badly written porn with him and Jensen as the stars. Sure, he usually just rolls his eyes as soon as he's read a paragraph, and fires back a link to information on flesh-eating worms, but he knows what's out there. He _knows_ some people like to think of them...like _that_, and hell, he doesn't blame the fans. Both of them are hot and it isn't like he doesn't often help his right hand out with technicolor fantasies of Sandy making out with Jensen's pretty ex Danneel, slipping a hand beneath her skirt.

But this is different, somehow..._in love_, says the song, and _epic romance_. That's...that's more than just thinking the two of them would look good naked and sweaty together. That's saying they _belong_, that _feelings_ and _futures_ are involved. That's...that's _personal_, that's...

He doesn't know how to put it, exactly, but whatever it is, it's that. In spades.

When he's walking to the closing breakfast the next morning, he passes Laptop Girl (Laura? BitchfaceTM?), and she smiles and waves, just one of the many fangirls showing support over the shoulders of his bodyguards. Jared smiles weakly back and is utterly unable to stop the flush creeping up the back of his neck.

He's uncharacteristically quiet at the exclusive breakfast thing, and he catches Jensen looking at him in annoyance—Jensen has to talk when Jared doesn't step in, and he's _in_ for it later, he's guessing. There's a little group at one of the front tables who are all wearing the same purple shirt, and one of them is watching him closely, frowning a little. She leans over and whispers to her neighbor, who shoots him a concerned look and bites her lip. She answers the first girl and then stretches to the other side, apparently starting a game of telephone. By the time the MC thanks everyone for coming and they all stand up, the whole twelve-person table is looking at him like they're worried.

The breakfast was small enough (expensive enough, Jensen had remarked cynically) that guests of honor have agreed to shake hands with the fans on their way out. Jared smiles and says thank you and shakes on autopilot. When the first purple-shirt girl gets to him, she shakes his hand gently and speaks in a soft tone of voice, thanking him for the effort he goes to. The next ten are largely the same, treating him like he's made of glass, and the last one tells him to rest up and take care of himself.

"You'll look after him, won't you?" she asks Jensen directly, and Jensen's eyes widen.

"Sure," he says, startled. "I always do."

"Thanks," she says, shaking Jensen's hand briskly, a satisfied look on her face. "We appreciate it."

Working their way through the last of the line, Jensen keeps sneaking him looks like he isn't sure whether to worry or laugh.

*~*~*

He should be able to let this go, Jared thinks.

He types the lyrics he can remember into his Google box and hits search.

The first site to turn up is called "J-Squared Square", and it has the lyrics on its homepage. There's a little asterisk at the bottom that thanks the writer for her permission, and suggests that visitors visit her LJ to download an MP3, and a lightbulb goes off in Jared's head. _Elljay_. He clicks the link, and finds himself at seedyapartment.livejournal.com. One of the links to the side is for her "profile," and one of the names listed as a "friend of" is bitchfacetm. Jackpot.

Bitchfacetm's profile says "Jared/Jensen is, of course, the ultimate of my OTPs; if you'd like to know what I love to read, you can go to my del.icio.us account."

She hasn't provided a _link_, so he goes into her actual journal, with a "My Delicio" link in the sidebar and an entry titled "Con Report" heading the page.

 

**Con Report:**   
_  
In a nutshell? We wished you could come; Kripke rocks; J/J, as usual, are more adorable than kittens. Very slashy kittens. (They are also slashier than very slashy kittens. More on this later.)_

I caught my flight with minutes to spare but was spotted by Babyimpala on my way off the plane, solely based on the enormous Metallicar tote bag I was sporting. We met, we squeed, we collected our luggage and threw it into our hotel rooms. We met back up at the bar, where we found several other of my flisty sweeties and my roommate, Thosedimples, who is btw a DOLL, thanks so much to those of you who hooked us up!

I'll report on the panels, etc., later, when I've put my notes into something coherent, but I want to say -that everyone I met was AWESOME, even awesomer in person. We even arranged something not on the official agenda, and got people together to sing our anthem. J24eva played guitar—and did a fabulous job, of course. It was SO MUCH FUN to reminisce and bounce story ideas off each other. (If anyone out there wants to adopt the astronaut bunny, PLEASE link me when you're done.)

My weekend was full of fun and booze and friends. But the BEST PART...oh, the very best part_...is what happened at the breakfast. I wasn't there, of course—curse the cost of college textbooks—but Thosedimples was, with the rest of the DemonKing Devotees, and she asked me to post about it because she won't be back online for a week. _

So. I quote from the e-mail she sent me:

"At the breakfast, Jared was obviously_ tired, he barely _spoke_, and Jensen kept shooting him looks. Tired puppy! He was still adorable, of course, but he looked stressed to death. I felt a little ridiculous, but I couldn't help telling him to rest up. I asked Jensen if he would look after Jay, and he said (are you sitting down?), "Of course. I always do." _

OH. MY. GOD. You could tell he kinda wanted to laugh, because here was this strange woman telling him to look after his boyfriend, but he meant what he said. He just looked so sincere_ and...god. Tell EVERYONE. This is even better than the adopted dogs interview! I demand h/c be written by the time I get back!" _

And I, of course, agree with her, my darlings. GO FORTH! WRITE FIC!

Myself I have to go sleep for about a million years.

 

Jared grins and shakes his head. Boyfriend. Adopt the astronaut bunny. God, he loves 'em, but they're all nutty as fruitcakes. Nothing like a little perspective. He closes the window, still smiling.

But in the back of his mind lingers _sincere_. Because—Jensen _was_.


	4. The Everyday Fangirl

Visiting Sandy after weeks of phone calls and e-mails always fills a little hole in Jared's soul, although even _she_ would say that's corny. (Once, when he was drunk, he told Jensen his theory about soul-holes. Jensen, even drunker, apologized for the one he keeps ripping in Jared's. It's one of those things they don't talk about. Like the switched underwears incident. Fine. Incidents.)

He and Sandy have been playing phone tag for the past couple of weeks, and for now he's content to just stretch into the comfort of her presence. She came out and met him at the airport, bless her, and now she's filling the cab with chatter about her new apartment and roommates. He's glad she's happy...it took a lot of work to find a good situation after one old roommate moved for her job and the rest were scattered to the winds.

"Oh! I forgot, I didn't get to tell you--"

"Hmmm?"

"I went to tour the apartment, do the interviews and stuff, and Rachel—she's the criminology major—opened the door and the first thing she says is, 'Holy shit, you're _Sandy_.' And I said yeah, I had an appointment—and she said, 'No, sorry, it's just...I'm kind of a fan. Well, I mean, I'm a huge fan of your boyfriend and I really think you're awesome, too.'

"And I didn't know what to say, you know? But she just smiled and said, 'Don't let it put you off us. It's a good apartment and I swear I'm not crazy enough to try to steal him away from you.'"

Jared doesn't really know what to say to this, either, so he goes for the obvious. "Is she hot?"

Sandy backhands him with a grin. "Watch yourself, mister."

He's a little apprehensive when they get into the apartment, but Rachel really seems to be perfectly normal, tall with light brown hair and a pleasant face. She shakes his hand and tells him she loves the show and she's really impressed by what a great actor he's become, which makes him duck his head and blush a little as he thanks her. Then Sandy introduces him to Dara and Candace, who are sharing the third bedroom; they move on to new conversations, and by the end of the weekend she's just Rachel, just one of Sandy's friends.

Over the next few months she gets to be one of his favorites—the show pretty much consumes his _life_, after all, and it's fun to be able to talk about it with somebody in depth. She withheld his portion of dessert the first and only time he "spoiled" her, so he has to be careful about which episodes have aired, but she notices the tiny details that the people he knows are most proud of, and it's great to be able to tell Marcy in wardrobe that apparently Dean's boots were both sexy and "very Dean." She has great insights into Sam, too, and sometimes when he's frustrated he makes Sandy put her on the phone to listen to his lines and tell him what the writers were thinking. She doesn't gush or scream, she just knows and likes the show, enjoying and analyzing it the same way she does historic crimes.

It's nearing the end of their midterm hiatus—which he's mostly spent in Sandy's apartment, dusting cobwebs out of ceiling corners, changing lightbulbs, and "providing eyecandy," as Dara put it—when he knocks lightly on Rachel's half-open door.

"Come in," she calls absently, still typing steadily.

"We wanted to know if you wanted to come out to dinner with us. My flight's at nine and I won't be back down until summer, probably. Anybody'd think I'd made a deal with the devil."

Rachel flashes him a grin. "Sure. Just let me finish this?"

"Yeah, you've got time...Sandy's dressing up for me, I guess, so she'll be awhile. Whatcha doin'?"

"Just replying to a friend's blog...she's having guy problems."

"Well, I'm a guy...maybe I can help," he offers, grinning.

"I doubt you're as batshit insane as this guy, but you might do better getting in his head than we are." She pushes her chair away from the desk and gestures him forward.

The problem seems pretty straightforward to him. "I've done this. He's trying to convince her he's not freaking out. If she tells him she doesn't expect to get serious for a while yet, he'll cut it out."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "She's supposed to get "not freaking out" from jumping away from her every time she touches him?"

"No, she's supposed to get it from the excessive compliments and regular floral deliveries. The jumping thing he's probably hoping she hasn't noticed."

She gives him a long, narrow look. "You're all idiots."

"I know."

"And you assume we're idiots, which is worse."

"Sorry about that."

Rachel sighs and nudges him away from the computer, beginning to type. "My roommate's bf..." He grins and ruffles her hair, wandering away to examine her family photos on the walls and pluck at the guitar on a stand in the corner.

In a few minutes, she gives a soft grunt of satisfaction and hits two keys emphatically, and the page reloads. Across the top illustration, above where she'd scrolled to before, is scrawled "Bitchface (TM)." Jared frowns, and Rachel looks up at him questioningly. "Something wrong?"

"Nooo...I just...there's something familiar about that--" he waves at the screen.

"BitchfaceTM? It's her screenname...but it's also how the fen refer to Sam's pouty look, you know," she says, grinning. "You've probably seen it somewhere, or I might have talked about it."

"I guess so." Another moment, and he shrugs it off.

Dinner that night is riotous, a lot of wine, an appetizer sampler big enough to choke a beluga, and a lot of silly food-exchanging. They don't have time for dessert, though, and people mostly take off pretty quickly, giving Jared a hug or a backslap and disappearing into a cab. Tomorrow's Friday, after all, and most of them still have to go to work in the morning. The girls going back to the apartment are the last to leave, and Rachel hugs him hard. "Thanks for helping with Laura, hon. I'll let you know when she updates her elljay, see if you were right."

She ducks into the cab and slams the door as Jared's brain translates "elljay=LJ=livejournal" and then "Laura=BitchfaceTM=_Laptop Girl_" and then, having done its part, promptly shuts down.

"Honey?" Sandy shakes his arm. "Jared? You okay?"

"Yeah," he says, hoarsely. "Yeah, I'm fine." Jared gives her a weak smile. "Just thinking I'm gonna miss them...not nearly as much as I will you, though."

She scrunches her nose at him, and then stands on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his. "I'll come up when I can, baby, you know that. And soon you'll be back up there, playing with Jensen, all wound up in work, and you'll hardly know I'm gone."

*~*~*

Jared gets home at midnight, having spent the past five hours trying not to go into a frenzy. From the way the Vancouver airport's security had been trailing him, huge man with a crazed expression on his face, he's guessing there's no point trying to fool himself. He came back early to give himself time to unpack and get Harley and Sadie settled in, adjust his sleeping schedule so shooting doesn't kill him. He should go to bed now, get some sleep, but instead he plugs in his laptop and paces around the room as it sets up. Sadie whines a question, but he can't muster the kind of peace it would need to sit down and soothe her.

Rachel wouldn't—Rachel isn't—just because she's friends with Laptop Girl doesn't mean they think the same way. They both like Supernatural, that's all. She's never given him any indication she has any interest in his rel--_friend_ship with Jensen.

He's just going to check. He can't spend the rest of his life being paranoid about this. He'll just find her screenname on the entry, and go to her profile, and it won't say anything at all about his being in love with Jensen, and everything will be fine.

He gets to bitchfacetm.livejournal.com faster than he'd realized he could type, and comes smack up against a shot of his own menacing face, Sam aiming a gun at him. "(Partially) Friends Only," the banner says, and below it is an explanation. "Due to RL difficulties, this journal has a new policy in place. Fic, meta, episode reactions, etc. are open to all and sundry. Personal matters are locked to personal friends. If you think you have been left off this list by mistake, please let me know."

_Fuck_.

He scrolls down, anyway, but yeah, the entry he remembers reading isn't there. But hey—personal friends. Rachel's a "personal friend." No reason to think she--

Gah.

He shuts the laptop with a little more force than is strictly necessary and shucks his shirt and pants, flopping on to the bed and pulling the chain on the light.


	5. Fic

The alarm jolts him out of an uneasy doze at four. Jared had intended to set it to sleep for half an hour two or three times before actually getting out of bed, as a way of easing into his stupid shooting schedule, but he knows immediately there's no point to it. The Rachel Problem isn't going to let him get any more shuteye.

Growling and muttering under his breath, he rolls off the bed and viciously pokes the power button on his computer.

The journal is still in his history and he sits and stares at Sam, who glares back at him, uncompromising. For a moment, he finds himself wishing that Sam weren't quite so stubborn—which is insane. He shakes himself and his eye lands on the little link in the sidebar.

...He should know what she might be thinking, shouldn't he? Just in case she _is_...crazy.

The thought makes him feel guilty as hell—this is _Rachel_, she's his _friend_, she's not _crazy_, but...Seeing things that aren't there qualifies as crazy, doesn't it?

BitchfaceTM's del.icio.us account looks like anybody else's, with a list of tags down the side, and the first one is "au." He can use wikipedia, same as anybody, and it turns up "alternate universe." Like the djinn thing. Okay. So...not really about _them_, maybe?

The first story he clicks, about all their friends as superheroes, has him grinning in about six paragraphs. By the time he gets to Chad's utility belt, complete with lube, he's only hoping his sniggering isn't waking anybody. When he gets to Mike's codename, he's laughing so hard that the dogs come skittering into the room, and he has to stop and pat them until they're sure he's all right. And yeah, okay, towards the end there's some more of that sexin'-with-Jensen—and oh god, that _rhymes_—but it isn't mushy or anything and hell, if they're all this good, he can skim.

*~*~*

Jensen eyes his friend warily.

They've been back on set for a month now, and Jared's on a new kick. A dangerous one, because it's _secret_, more like the peanut butter incident than a new video game they _have_ to beat or Jared's months-long campaign to make every person he knew put change in those little orphan boxes at supermarkets. Only worse, because at least he told _Jensen_ about the peanut butter. This time, so far as Jensen can tell, he hasn't told a soul. Not even Sandy, when Jensen called her, although she's anxious, too. Not even Jensen.

It's the random little things that worry him the most...strange things are making Jared laugh nowadays. There's nothing _that_ funny about _Dancing with the Stars_, for instance. And as for Jared's hovering every time Jensen had to talk to his uncle about his dad's surprise party, Jensen doesn't even want to _try_ to guess what that was about.

At least Jared's still talking about six times as much and ten times as fast as a normal person, though. This means that a) he doesn't think he's doing anything wrong and b) he might let something slip, thank god.

Jared's snort when Tom left for the bathroom a few minutes after Mike has Jensen seriously worried, though. Surely he didn't booby-trap the _urinals_...

"Jensen!" Jared declaims, waving his beer around, almost hitting his friend in the eye. "Jensen, my dearest friend."

"Yes, Jared?" he says mildly, pushing Jared's bottle away from his face.

Jared leans in close, looking deep into Jensen's eyes, rolling the mouth of his beer against his lip absently. "You—you are my very. Best. Friend."

"Thank you."

"I wish we _had_ gone to college together." Jared slings an arm around his shoulders, plants a giant paw over Jensen's heart.

"Me, too, Jared."

"You—are the model to my artist, the samurai to my shogun, the dogsitter to my movie star, the nobody to my shadow." He gets even closer and touches his beer to the tip of Jensen's nose, his breath heavy with beer and salt, and Jensen freezes. "You, my friend, are the cop to my teacher." He leans back and wraps his lips around the mouth of the bottle, throat working as the condensation slides from glass to lip to chin and down over the side.

Okay, so Jared's metaphors aren't making sense and Jensen's started being fascinated by tiny details. He'd better get them both out of there before Tom has another dust mote story to tell.

*~*~*

It's late, the last scene of the day, and everyone's stressed and worn.

"Hey, I can be classy." Dean burps loudly, and gets a thoughtful expression on his face. "Huh. Onions."

"Don't worry, baby," drawls Sam. "I'll still kiss you in the morning."

There's a moment of stunned silence before the director yells, "CUT!"


	6. The Fangirl Online

Jared knows it started as precautionary (okay, paranoid), this secret reading of his, and he knows approximately when he started reading purely for pleasure, too. He's okay with that. Some of these people are _good_. They write good stories, stories that make him laugh or hold him spellbound, and as a bonus those stories often include one or more of his friends, with a friendly mockery that he can grin to himself about later. It's just damn _funny_ how many of the fans have Chad—accurately—pinned as a douche, but a good guy _very_ deep down, and how Mike's exhibitionist tendencies fictionally translate to nuzzling Tom's ear in public. And so long as it's set in a fictional world, too, he can ignore the part where the guy has his name and is tall and dark-haired. Sort of.

And when he started sliding into reading other fics, stories set in the here-n-now, stories set when the show ends in three or five years, he can probably figure that out too...one of his favorite authors published a story and he didn't even squirm for a minute before he clicked. It's a little harder to ignore that this is about his _life_, here, but he's got into the habit.

What he can't figure out is just when, exactly, he went from being a reader, an observer, of the fandom, to being a part of it. There's a timestamp on his LJ, sure—it's only a sockpuppet, because he isn't _crazy_, and when the hell did he pick up what a sockpuppet was—but he's pretty sure that was only the blurp of the murk closing over the top of his head. He has his favorite authors friended, so he knows when they update or write something new; he leaves enthusiastic reviews on new chapters. He only dodged a beta request from Babyimpala by claiming a busy time in RL. (Which is technically _true_, after all; fifteen-hour days don't work themselves.) He knows the lingo now, and once he caught himself making a sound he suspects was a squee when "Jensen" finally grabbed "Jared" by the shirt in the WiP he's been following.

He really should be a lot more freaked out by this. A _lot_ more freaked out by it. But...it's _fun_. Whatever their beliefs or fantasies or whathaveyou about his personal life, he _likes_ these girls, who are articulate and unabashedly enthusiastic. Jared's favorite people have always been the ones that get involved with and excited about their favorite things, who aren't afraid to be called dorks or geeks because they're having too much fun to worry about what strangers might think of them. People who know how to _care_ about something. He's never been able to stand girls who pick at their food, or guys who try to be "cool."

Hell, he asked Sandy out the day he overheard her breathlessly telling one of her friends on set about the "kickass" move she'd learned in her dance class that morning, still shiny with exercise and glowing with her sense of accomplishment. He'd just walked over and touched her on the elbow, dodging her ponytail as she turned her head, and let his suddenly-strong attraction shine through his face as he asked her if she'd come to dinner with him. And he'd known he and Jensen could be best friends as soon as they began to discuss their characters, a spark igniting under his co-star's skin when he talked about understanding Dean.

These people have that same fire in their souls, and if the Zippo to their tinder is...unusual, he can't fault them for it. They're becoming his friends. Hell, they already know him better than a lot of the guys he goes out drinking with do, have his moles and his hands memorized, and okay, _that's_ still a little freaky-feeling. But on the other hand it's worth a lot to get on the computer after a crappy day and see, "_Dear Jared Padalecki, You are made of all things win and awesome. Plz to keep it up always, you huge dork_ \o/ _All my love, Me_." It's certainly worth avoiding a few picspams.

More disconcerting are his moments of deja vu, their frequency increasing as he branches out, reads the recs sprinkled through RL entries and fic updates, reads fics by the recced authors. He'll be sitting in a bar playing darts while Jensen mocks Jared's team's record, or catch himself adding two sugars to Jensen's coffee without bothering to ask how Jensen wants it. His momma will ask him whether Jensen's coming down with him this time, and Jared will stop and watch his own hands, listen to his own voice, as his body does what his mind tells him only those nutty fangirls think he'd do.

Most worrying of all are the times he finds himself watching Jensen when he drops a Star Wars dvd in and grins over his shoulder as he presses play, or reaches up and tugs on one of Jared's early-morning bedheaded curls. Because with Jensen's face alight with affection, his body heat casual and close, the lines between fictional-Jensen and fact are damnably blurred.


	7. Rose-Coloured Interviews

Friday night—well, Saturday morning, really—and Jared is just about ready to throw himself off his teeny tiny porch. He's willing to bet he's more tired than the dead. Even the cold, peaceful dead, who are choosing to snooze away their eternities instead of killing people. Jared is beginning to hate those zombies; they can't seem to fall right in the right light, like, ever—but he's also too keyed up to sleep. The driver just dropped them back at home after a long night of wrestling each other and the MotW, and the adrenaline is still pumping.

He groans and settles on the bed with his laptop. He'll just check his flist and jerk off and crash, and—thank god—he can sleep in tomorrow morning.

He scrolls down so he can read in chronological order, grinning tiredly as he catches glimpses of "squee" and "\o/". Something must have set them off, those adorable whackjobs. Picking up where he left off is an entry from Babyimpala.

**New Translation. New Chance To Watch My Head Explode.**   
_  
This interview is ancient, okay, they gave it to some Italian magazine ages ago and it's only just been coherently translated. (Thank you, Italian fans!) But OH. MY. GOD. Could they be any more married? Just...just LOOK! _

**Out for a Drink: Winchester Boys with Loosened Tongues**

Supernatural_ stars Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles agreed to let us buy them a drink and answer a few friendly questions. _

PRM: We appreciate you taking the time to come out with us.

JP: Well, you got us off work for the night, and you're buying us beer, so I think we'll have to say the pleasure's all ours.

PRM: You work a lot of long hours, I understand. How are you handling that? Do you ever get tired of being around each other so much?

JP: Obviously, it's very important that we be able to not just get along, but support each other. It's hard work, very hard work, physically and mentally and emotionally, and we lean on each other to get through it with our sanity. If I have a bad day or a problem, Jensen's the first person I think of to help me out.

JA: I'd have to agree. Jared and I get each other through a lot of tough scenes, a lot of tough times.

PRM: I know you get asked about being superstitious, having real-world encounters with the supernatural, a lot, so I won't ask. Jared's talked about a habit he has when he goes under a yellow light. Have you picked up each other's habits or ways of thinking?

JA: I catch myself doing Jared's roof-thing sometimes. And it isn't exactly a superstition, but he never used to take his shoes off at the door.

JP: (laughs) I'm much less of a slob than I used to be. Jensen's a better influence than he'll admit.

PRM: Does he keep you from partying too hard?

JA: Oh, we take turns being the designated driver. Half the time we were already planning on crashing at one apartment or the other, anyway—sometimes at two in the morning we're so sorry for the studio's drivers we just tell them to drop us both off at Jared's. That way he has help walking the dogs in the morning and I have someone to make my coffee.

JP: Strictly so he won't complain about coming out to walk my babies, of course. (laughs)   


And then the rest is show, what were spoilers a million years ago, blahblahblah, but the important points are totally up there. How they rely on each other more than anybody, and they're rubbing off on each other, and how THEY ARE SO MARRIED AND RAISING THE PUPPIES TOGETHER. Those are the most important bits. Except for [the picture!!](http://pics.livejournal.com/elucreh/pic/000511pd)

Jared's lazily grinning as he clicks on the link, remembering that interview with a certain fondness. With unusual tact, the reporter had restricted herself to her official questions, and his agent told him she didn't even mention him pestering Jensen to sing karaoke or Jensen's giggle fit when Jared spilled his beer. They'd both been high with sleep-deprivation and the alcohol hadn't helped, but she had been great.

Then the picture loads, and his grin fades.

She must have snapped it later in the evening, when they'd stopped paying so much attention to what they were saying or doing. Jensen's grinning widely—it's probably just after the beer spill—and Jared has an elbow on one of Jensen's shoulders and a hand on the other. Jared's smiling down at his costar softly, ruefully affectionate, and Jared's. Heart. Stops.

He _remembers_ that. He remembers reaching out to shake Jensen's shoulder, leaning on him, the warm solidity of his back. He remembers suddenly overflowing with affection for this guy, who he knows and who knows him better than anybody. He remembers a few seconds later, when he bent his head down and rested it against the back of Jensen's neck, grounded and content.

God.

He's in love with Jensen.

Jared has a support system in place for when the world falls apart, and as his brain falls into full-on life-crisis mode, his hand reaches for his cell phone and holds down the number three.

"What's up, man?"

"Jensen, I--" The words dry up in his throat. What's he thinking? He can't go to _Jensen_ with this. "Uh..."

"Jared, you okay?" Jensen sounds worried.

"Um..."

"Jared, _say something_."

"I, uh—I just—wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it tomorrow."

"Oh, sure. Why?"

"I—well," Jared hesitates, but if he can't talk to Jensen, there's really only one person he can talk to. "I'm gonna...go down and see Sandy. For the weekend, you know."

He can hear Jensen frowning. "Okay...what's wrong, man?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all."

"You sure? You're not going down there to...propose or bash her head in for cheating on you or anything?"

"...Why would you think that?"

"Because you sound like you've got a blender in your throat, maybe?" Jensen's tone has moved from 'mild concern' to 'I can kick your ass,' and Jared winces, because Jensen's at his nastiest when he's being protective.

"No! No, no...I just, I haven't talked to her in a while, you know that, and—I have something I wanna ask her. "

"And this question..._doesn't_ involve any kind of...bended knee?"

Jared squawks. "What? No! You think I'd trust myself to pick out a ring without hauling you into seven different jewelry stores? You think I didn't learn from the disastrous bracelet incident?"

"All right. It's just, you sound...nervous or worried or something."

"I—" Jared can't figure out how to finish that sentence.

"Jay...you know you can talk to me, if you need to, right? I mean, I can be there in seriously about a minute and a half. I have superpowers."

"No!"

The silence draws out, and as it stretches it grows heavy with confusion and hurt. "Awright, man, if that's--"

"Jensen...I just...this is something I gotta talk to her about first, you know? I promise I'll come cry on your shoulder if I need to."

"You big girl." But he sounds mollified.

"Yeah, yeah, you can buy me a pink pony when I get back, okay?"

"I'm thinking unicorn."

"You would." Jared manages to wring out a chuckle.

They can go on in this vein for a while, but clearly Jared isn't doing much of a job of faking it, because Jensen doesn't pursue the point. "Call me when you get there? Or if you need m—anything?"

"'Course, man."

"Okay. I'll see you Monday."

"'Night."

"'Night."

Jared stares at the phone in his hand for a long minute before he calls the airport and books a flight the old-fashioned way, avoiding the glare of his computer.

Is he _crazy_?

*~*~*

Crazy or not, he's knocking on Sandy's door at eight o'clock the next morning, the little carry-on bag of clothes and shaving kit shaking a little in his other hand. Rachel opens the door, and her forehead immediately creases with concern. "Jared! What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too," he says wearily, and lets her wrap an arm around his neck, hugging her lightly.

"You look like shit, Jared, don't give me that. You have no business treating yourself like this, not with your schedule."

He shrugs a little. "Sandy here?"

"Yeah. In her room. She doesn't know you're coming?"

Jared shrugs again. "Needed to see her."

Rachel raises her eyebrows, but she doesn't say anything. "C'mon in."

Sandy's door is half-open, but he knocks anyway, and when she calls "Come in," he hesitates before he ducks inside.

She's doing one of her complicated sports-bra related moves, wrestling it around her beautiful breasts. He'd forgotten she should have class this morning. She untwists the last strap as she turns around, and then she sees him, and her eyebrows go up.

"Jared? What--"

"Hi."

She walks over and wraps an arm around his waist, her haphazard kiss landing somewhere between his chin and his ear. "I wasn't expecting you."

"No."

She looks up at that, scanning his face, reading him the way she's always been able to, and then abruptly turns around.

"Sandy, what--"

But before he can finish his sentence, she's swept her phone up from the nightstand and is waving him silent. He sits on the end of the bed to wait.

"Janice? It's Sandy. I'm sorry, I'm not gonna be there today. I've got a family emergency, just came up. Yeah. Yep. Thanks, I will. Sorry about this. Thanks."

"You didn't have to--"

"Don't be stupid, Jared. For one thing I haven't spoken to you in weeks, so I'd cancel on her anyway. For another, have you _looked_ in a mirror?"

"Rachel said I looked like shit," he admits, sheepishly.

"Rachel was being kind. What's going on?"

Jared ducks his head and draws a shaky breath. He can't figure out where to start. He watches her feet come closer, breathes in her powder-scented deodorant and the spiced apple candle warming in a corner of the room. Her fingers run through his hair.

"Jared? Baby, talk to me."

A noise chokes its way out of his throat, and she pulls him to her. "Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, we can make it better."

"I think--" Jared stutters to a halt, and he has to start again. "I think I might be in love with Jensen."

The hand in his hair freezes, and he doesn't dare look up.

"Okay. We're going to need to talk about this."

But she doesn't sound hurt, or mad, and he lets his head rest against her.

*~*~*

An hour and an increasingly crazy story later, they're curled up in the bed, Jared using Sandy's lap for a pillow. A small silence has fallen.

"...You don't seem—surprised," Jared says finally. He looks up into her face, and she smiles softly down at him.

"I'm not." A beat. "I mean—in a _way_ I am. You've never—I never thought you might like guys. It didn't really enter my head at all." She scrunches her nose at him. "But Jensen...it really is there for just about anyone to see, baby. That—that you're not just close, you're _connected_. You know?"

"All too well."

"I didn't think it might be...romantic. Might be sexual. But--"

"I'm not...I don't know that it is. Myself. I mean, I never—I haven't really--_looked_, you know? But I know what it feels like to be in love. I remember—from when I was in love with you."

For the first time, tears well up in her eyes, but she pushes him back down when he tries to get up. He presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist instead.

"There's no need for the eyes, Jared." She sounds mock-reproving.

He flinches. "I wasn't--"

"I know." Her voice softens. "Baby, this is the first time we've spoken in six weeks. Do you realize that? Do you remember when our schedules were exactly what they are now, but we still never went more than two days without really talking? We've been letting this happen...our priority hasn't been our relationship in a really long time. It's just gonna take a little while to heal from it, okay? I don't want you to feel bad about this. It's both of us. We weren't making it work."

Jared blows out a breath. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay." The corner of her mouth quirks up. "I want you to start figuring this Jensen thing out, Jared. If you haven't been looking, _look_. See if you can get him to look back. I want—I want you—I want _both_ of you to be happy."

"Yeah, okay."

"Besides...when the two of you get together it's going to be really, really hot." The little half-smile turns into a watery grin.

Jared laughs out loud. "That's the general opinion of the internet."


	8. The Fangirl On-Set

Jensen leans against a pillar in luggage claim, idly keeping an eye on the space three feet above the rail of the escalator, where Jared's head will show up. So far the air up there's been empty, but the flight only just unboarded, so there's no real reason to worry yet. It isn't really stopping him, though. Jared sounded practically strangled on the phone Friday night, and the e-mail he sent asking Jensen to pick him up was three sentences long. Something is going on, and it's big, and Jared's upset about it—yeah, Jensen isn't going to let planes landing on time keep him from worrying.

_Finally._ Jensen pushes himself off the pillar and waves, and Jared's face lights up. In three long strides Jared's wrapped him close with those long arms, shoving his hands under Jensen's arms and lifting him up just to piss him off. Jensen laughs and pounds on Jared's shoulder. "Put me down, fucker." Jared lets Jensen's feet drop, but doesn't let go yet, looking down at him, all grin and glow.

Jensen can feel the edges of his own grin soften, and he has to say something before this gets mushy. "Hasn't been _that_ long, Jay."

Jared's arms drop immediately, and he coughs and looks down. "Missed you too, asshole." The grin he's offering now is crooked and insincere, and Jensen curses himself.

"What happened?"

"Nothin'." Jared turns around, starts scanning the screens on top of the luggage belts

"Jay, you aren't seriously gonna try and tell me you're fine, are you?"

"I _am_ fine." He starts maneuvering through the crowd towards the chute spitting out luggage from his flight, and Jensen rolls his eyes as he starts after him.

"Bullshit. What happened with Sandy?"

He catches up to Jared at the edge of the luggage belt, and slings an arm around his shoulder. Jared sighs. "There's nothing wrong, Jensen."

Jensen's arm tightens a little, and he peers up at Jared. "You seriously expect me to accept that?"

*~*~*

_Well, no_, Jared thinks ruefully, tilting his head for Marcia the makeup girl and avoiding Jensen's eyes in the mirror again. He hadn't really expected Jensen to let it go that easily. He just hadn't...thought it through.

Actually, he had expected it to be a lot easier than it was to pretend nothing was wrong. He didn't have a backup plan for when that failed within his first three minutes back in Vancouver. He really should have thought about the fact that Jensen can read him better than even Sandy ever could.

It could be perfectly simple...five little words, "I broke up with Sandy," and Jensen would stop asking and Jared would get beer and sympathy. He just..isn't ready to say them. Isn't ready to answer "why" and "did she" and "how do you."

Anyway, at least the mystery is distracting Jensen from the fact that Jared can't stop _looking_ at him and _touching_ him, despite Jared's very best efforts. Jensen's far too busy worrying about Jared and Sandy and trying to pry answers out of him to pay any attention to how Jared is treating him.

*~*~*

At lunch Jared twitches away from him again and stands up, backing off hastily, muttering something about lines through his donut, and Jensen stares after him with wide eyes. The sound effects expert and the makeup girl sitting across from him look almost as freaked out as Jensen feels, and when they see the look on his face they exchange a glance that's not only weirded out, but concerned.

Glancing around, he realizes just about everybody noticed, and they're all either staring or hastily looking away. Great. Just—great.

Jared's been oiling out of being alone with him—they read lines in the food tent, which okay, yes, food, but on the other hand it is _Vancouver_ in _March_ and the space heaters aren't as effective in a place with _cloth walls_. Sitting in the Impala, Jared couldn't seem to think of anything to say, and every time Jensen tried to start a conversation, Jared jumped and looked away hastily, color rising in his cheeks. They played football with the crew for about thirty seconds before Jared fled, wide-eyed, tension running through his back and shoulders as Jensen shouted uselessly after him.

The tension between Sam and Dean is _crackling_, which makes the director happy, anyway.

*~*~*

Jared isn't sure he can take much more of this.

He thought the deja vu was weird _before_...now it's not only weird but dizzyingly arousing. Just feeling Jensen up against him when they hugged at the airport, sitting next to him in the car and breathing him in, had necessitated that he kick Jensen out of the house and jerk off the second the door closed. Still gently stroking, breathing hard, his hand had drifted to a stop as he considered the possibilities...he got online and found the links he'd never clicked before; the fics marked PWP.

He'd come twice more before bed, and again before work, imagining his cock in Jensen's mouth, focusing on Jensen spewing filth as he fucked Jared raw, seeing Jensen's eyes wide and aware as he licked into Jared's mouth. It was like all he'd had to do was open the door to the idea to be flooded with images and ideas he'd never dreamed were inside him—let alone feel the blood throb through his veins as he found more and more ideas glowing on his screen.

Now he can't sit next to Jensen in the freaking Impala without imagining being pushed down and fucked, realized just before a football play that he was staring at Jensen's ass pushed up in the air just in front of him, had to drag Jensen into the food tent for line reading so he wouldn't end up molesting him—even with the chill and the crowd, it was a damn close call. He's sitting at lunch when Jensen takes an absent sip of soda through a straw and Jared's dick nearly explodes.

He stumbles out of the food tent towards his trailer, automatically snatching the sticky note from the door and smacking it down on a table as he shoves headlong into the bathroom, where he jerks open his jeans and tugs twice, coming his brains out.

He leans back against the wall, and tries to calm his throbbing heartbeat. His head thuds gently back. He is so fucking screwed. He is _fucked_.

Sandy said to try to get Jensen to look back, but Jared has no idea how to do that. Should he, like, flash him? He growls softly to himself and does up his jeans, shuffles back into the little sitting room. With a sigh, he picks up the note one of the P.A.s stuck to his door--"Don't forget contest winners coming this afternoon."

Correction. Previously he had no idea what fucked meant.

_Now_ he's fucked.

*~*~*

Jensen smiles and reaches out a hand to the little group of fangirls, offering each of them a shake and a grin. He eyeballs them, but they all seem to be of the sane variety, and he can feel the tension seep out a little. Jared, behind him, reaches around to do his own round of handshaking, but none of him brushes against Jensen, and his arm is stiff with the effort. Jensen bites his lip briefly. Jared shoots him a concerned look, and Jensen shoots it right back at him with interest. Jared's eyes flick away.

This is a new idea of the network's, to drum up publicity—they ran a hugely complicated trivia contest for six of their flagship shows, drawing a lot of media attention to the shows through the current interest in fans. It was an elimination game—the top ten fans were in. Then they were invited to a shoot—talking to the cast and crew, watching a scene being filmed, that kind of thing—while a photographer followed them around and a press guy got their reactions to put together in a packet for newspapers and magazines. The Supernatural winners were even going to meet Harley and Sadie, whose dogsitter had brought them to the set for the afternoon.

Jensen had been in favor of the idea, liking that they could pay the fans back and get more of them all at once, but—not _now_. Not _today_. Jared was acting way too weird to be trusted with a big crowd of fans...the _last_ thing they needed was ten people going home and posting on the internet about how Jared had suddenly become allergic to him.

As if it wasn't humiliating enough to realize the crew had all figured out that suddenly Jared couldn't stand him.

But Jared seems to have realized that, too, and if he isn't fooling Jensen, at least he's fooling the fans. They're distracting him, too—Jared loves talking to their fans, moving his ginormous hands expansively and running off at the mouth in general. He starts out quieter than usual, and maintaining his distance from Jensen, but as he grows more absorbed in the conversation his sentences get longer and the space between them shrinks. It helps that the fans are all jumping in on the conversation, back and forth with Jared and each other, and Jensen when he can get a word in.

In half an hour Jay's touching Jensen as much as he always has; an arm around the shoulders, a hand at the waist to shift him, and Jensen finds himself leaning into the touch, trying to prolong it. He hadn't realized how starved he was for contact with Jared until he started to get it back, and he's a little freaked out by how reassured he feels.

Somehow leaning into the touch turns into returning it, keeping Jared's hands or shoulder or thigh against him as constantly as he can manage. He can feel the day's edge wearing away with the warmth.

An hour later, Lilly comes to take the fangirls to special effects while he and Jared go get their makeup done, and Jared stares at his arm on Jensen's shoulder with realization slowly dawning in his eyes while the girls wave and walk off. He scrambles up from the couch and spits something out too fast for even Jensen to understand and takes off, striding fast.

But Jensen has had _enough_.

*~*~*

"Jared!"

Jared groans, and contemplates taking the last few steps into his trailer and pretending he didn't hear. He hadn't _meant_ to snuggle up close to Jensen, really he hadn't, he just _forgot_\--

"Don't even think about it, asshole," Jensen says, low, and grabs him by the arm, pulling him around the side of the trailer and leaning in close. "You are going to tell me what happened in L.A., and you are going to tell me why you've been avoiding me, and you are going to let me help you fix it."

And Jared's trying to answer, really he is, even though probably he's going to lie, but he can't get it out because Jensen is _right there_, breathing in Jared's breath, and his eyes are focused and full of concern and annoyance and about ten thousand other things that Jared can't pin down. Jared can't _think_, let alone _talk._

"Jay?" Insanely, Jensen moves in _closer_, like he thinks it'll _help_, and ohgod, he smells good and he's _warm_\--"Jared, man, you gotta talk to me." His voice has softened with worry and gone a little rough with desperation. "I don't know what's going on here, but we can make it better, I promise, you just have to trust me--"

Bee-bee-be-bee-bee-bee-be-BEE.

They jump apart and look wildly around, spotting one of the contest winners standing at the corner of the trailer, her eyes wide and her lips parted slightly. She shakes herself a little and pulls out a cell phone, hitting the silence button.

"Sorry, but, um—restroom?"

Jensen ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck. "No problem—uh--but I'm not sure--"

"There's one in the—pub-thing," Jared breaks in. "I think that's what the crew's been using."

"Thanks." She turns to go, but she throws a look over her shoulder as she goes, a crazy-wide grin on her face. They watch her out of sight in silence.

With a sigh, Jensen turns back to him. "Jared--"

There's a pleading look on his face, and Jared discovers, for about the fifteen millionth time, that he can't really say no to Jensen.

But--

"Not here, man, okay? Not now? I swear to you—we're off early tonight because of the thing, you can come to mine and we'll have some beers and talk it out. I promise you. I just—I can't, _here_. All right?"

Jensen gauges him warily. "Yeah, okay. But if you don't put everything out tonight I swear to God I'm gonna kick your ass."

He's too dazed by the putting out image to manage any kind of indignation. "Yeah, okay," he says, vaguely, and watches Jensen—and his ass—walk towards his own trailer for a minute before he goes inside to put on his makeup shirt.

*~*~*

Eight-thirty, and Jared's sitting in the backseat of the car waiting for Jensen and Melissa, trying not to pull his hair out.

No, literally: he's sitting on his hands. And trying to think of just about anything other than the fact that they're fifteen minutes from the house and when they get there he's going to have to tell Jensen _something_. He tries to get the dogs, in the back, to come over and sniff at him so he can scratch their ears, but they're tired from all the attention they got from the fangirls earlier, and they only whine at him quietly.

There's a soft thud against his door, and he jumps. He can see an outline with curly hair and plump shoulders pushed up against the window—the girl who found them outside his trailer, he thinks. She's laughing.

"Okay, okay, you're right—I _do_ love you more than everybody else. You get a sneak peek. Everyone else can get it off my LJ."

Hm. Jared cocks his head to the side. He wonders what her handle is; if he knows her. It's pretty obvious she has no idea that he's in the car, or that it's anything other than one of the millions of vehicles that haul props and crew around. She laughs again.

"No! I forbid it! If you don't promise not to--"

"Good. Okay. So yes. They're just as fabulous—of course you were expecting that. But they are. Perfectly honest and sweet and seriously, Jay talks a lot faster in person than he does in interviews."

Jared grins to himself.

"Some stunts, a sparring scene—some kind of training. Nothing too specific, no spoilers." She pauses to listen again. "Of course it was _hot_, lovey. It was _them_. But—no, wait, listen to this. No—sit down first. Okay? I got a little lost looking for a restroom, and I came around the corner of a trailer, and there they are—Jensen's got Jared backed up against a _wall_, and he's all wild and desperate and he's asking him to trust him, to...explain something, I dunno what." She turns a little to the side as her friend replies, and lowers her voice a little. "Well, obviously they weren't discussing their marriage problems in front of _us_\--Jensen seemed really worried, though. Even before all that, when we first got here...he couldn't stop looking at Jared. He follows him with his eyes everywhere...and Jared's—I dunno. He watches Jensen all the time, he touches him even more than I expected, but he seems...guilty about it. He keeps flinching when he realizes what he's doing."

Inwardly, Jared groans. He's really been praying that he isn't _that_ obvious.

"I'm guessing he's missing the part where Jensen was focused on him so much he tripped over wires four times. Also the part where Jensen is the one reaching out to touch half the time. Also the part where Jensen keeps checking out his ass." She listens for a minute, then laughs again. "Yeah, well, my tin hat really matches my eyes."

She pushes off from the car and walks off, saying something about a chat that night, leaving Jared to sink his chin to his chest and seriously consider her opinions.

*~*~*

When Jensen climbs into the car, he's surprised by the speculative look Jared is giving him; a look that doesn't skitter off when it meets Jensen's eyes. He raises his eyebrows back, and a grin breaks over Jared's face. A small one, but still—victory. Jensen feels his own smile spreading as he settles into the seat, and as he fastens his seat belt he knocks his elbow against Jared's companionably. Jared shoves back, and the world rights itself for a few moments.

Melissa climbs in the driver's seat and smiles uncertainly over her shoulder. "So, who wins 'I got knocked into the dirt the most' tonight, guys?"

"Just drop us both at Jared's," Jensen says, like he's said a thousand other times. But Jared bites his lip and ducks his head, staring at the huge hands in his lap, and Melissa looks way more relieved to hear those words than she ever has before. So much for illusions.

Melissa's a trooper, he'll give her credit—she doesn't ask questions, doesn't even imply them with her eyes, and she doesn't let the silence intimidate her, either. She chatters about the day's gossip—not even making it obvious she's stepping around the biggest news—and the fangirls' visit: the brave smile on the one who was clearly terrified of the dogs right up until Sadie nuzzled up against her knee; the one Gavin in special effects asked for her number, she so obviously knew what he was talking about. Apparently it's a tossup whether he wants her on crew or in bed.

Jensen thinks again what a shame, what a _waste_ it was to have this today, when normally a chance to deal with a small group of fans and get off early would have him smiling and joking right back. This should have been a good day, gathering stories to tell together at parties, remembering that some of the reasons they do this are _people_.

Instead, he barely managed to be half-aware of the new faces—he completely missed the one who apparently got mistaken for Josie in lighting twice—and he's only half-listening now, absorbed in watching Jared watch him. Jared's glance still slides away whenever he catches Jensen's eyes, but it's different, somehow—not guilty or unhappy, more...secretive. Every time he realizes Jensen is watching him too, his posture changes a little—he's looking less afraid. And Jensen knows that every time Jared loses a little misery, a little more tension seeps out of him.

Melissa pulls up in front of Jared's house and pops the trunk, and the two of them go around back to get the dogs. Jensen snags a leash from the hook on the back wall and clips it to Harley's collar, letting Jared deal with Sadie's loving nose and tongue. Harley groans a yawn as he stands up, and Jensen grins—those fangirls must have been _exhausting_. He's sorry he missed it. He coaxes the big dog down next to Sadie and shuts the trunk, calling thanks to Melissa, who waves as she drives off.

All three Padaleckis are quiet as they walk in the door and the guys toe off their shoes. The dogs lap a little water and collapse in a heap in one corner of the kitchen, and Jared goes straight for the beer, offering one to Jensen wordlessly.

*~*~*

Jared's feeling a lot better about this since he spent a quarter of an hour catching Jensen's eyes on him, realizing that he can make Jensen grin just by shooting him a smile. Somehow in his panic he forgot that Jensen _loves_ him—okay, so, maybe...maybe he's not, y'know, _in love_ with him, but he'd no more hate Jared for falling for him than Jared's momma's gonna hate him when he tells her he's in love with a man. Nobody's going to get punched, here. No friendships breaking up.

Like Sandy said. They're _connected_. Not a thing Jared does is gonna hurt that.

So he mostly goes for the beer do have something to do with his hands and mouth, give himself time, because yeah—he's got to say _something_. And Jared, he's not somebody who's good with words, especially when he doesn't know what's coming. Generally speaking he runs off at the mouth anyway, but generally speaking it doesn't matter what he says. He needs to say this just right, so Jensen knows where he's at; "So apparently all those nutty fangirls were right about me wanting your cock up my ass" is, for instance, a really bad way to open this conversation. Just for starters, it isn't really about Jensen's cock...not _really_.

He grabs two bottles and reaches one out to Jensen as he closes the refrigerator door. Their fingers brush and Jared can feel the red rising in his cheeks, but he doesn't back down, lets his eyes meet Jensen's. He can't quite tell whether Jensen's lingering is wishful thinking.

Jensen leans back against the counter, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

Jared pops the top off his and hands off the bottle capper. He's almost sure this time that he isn't imagining Jensen's reluctance to stop touching him.

"So." Jensen uncaps his beer and sets the cap and capper on the counter. He's giving Jared a chance to talk without having to meet his eyes, but he slides a sidelong glance over his shoulder.

Jared looks into the mouth of his beer and sighs mentally. He still hasn't really come up with the perfect way to start this conversation, but it's the end of the line. He gives up and goes for the obvious. "I broke up with Sandy."

Jensen's back is unreadable for a few seconds, and then he turns around. "I figured." His eyes are dark and opaque. All Jared can pick up is the concern. "I'd ask if you want to talk about it, but—frankly? After today, I don't really give a damn whether you want to talk about it. You're going to."

Jared can feel his mouth twisting wryly. "I figured."

"So?" Jensen gestures with the bottle.

"We—we weren't—working, anymore, I guess. Not just functioning, you know? Trying. I got down there to talk to her and she told me it was the first time we'd spoken in six weeks. And she was right. It wasn't anybody's fault, really, it just—we weren't the most important thing in each others' lives anymore."

"Yeah," Jensen says, softly. "I noticed."

Jared nods glumly, raising his beer to his mouth, not drinking, just kind of rolling it against his bottom lip. It's a nervous habit Jensen's always mocked him for, but he figures he can get away with it now, what with all the life-changing revelations and all. He looks up, waiting for Jensen to fire another question at him, and then he freezes. Slowly, he twists the bottle again, moving it from one corner of his mouth to the other.

Jensen's eyes track the spit-slick glass.

It feels like something's shattering, hot and clean and sharp, inside Jared's gut. The hand with the beer in it starts to drop, slowly, pulling Jared's mouth with it, and Jensen's eyes flare and follow the bottle down an inch before they snap back up to Jared's face, and there's no trace of that heat in them now.

Jared's kind of impressed, actually.

"But—that isn't why you went down there," Jensen says, like he doesn't even realize he was molesting Jared with his eyes a moment ago (what if he doesn't?), and Jared has to shake himself to remember what they're talking about.

"How do you know?"

"Because you just said _she_ told _you_, dumbass. You're not exactly hugely self-aware."

"All right, fine, yeah—it wasn't."

"So—"

"So--?"

"So why _did_ you? Go down there? You were upset Friday night. What happened?"

"I, uh—I kind of had a—revelation."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "About Sandy?"

Helplessly, Jared shakes his head. He can feel the shards of realization starting to shake deep inside him. This is—big. "Not about Sandy." He can't look at Jensen. He ducks his head.

Jensen steps into his space, too close for Jared to avoid meeting his eyes. They're focused and intense and Jared knows this is supposed to be the moment where he starts explaining, clearly and objectively, how he feels and that Jensen shouldn't feel pressured to return it and that they'll always be friends but Jensen's _right here_, familiar and warm and tempting, with freckles sprinkled across his skin, and Jared—the universe only has the right to ask so much of Jared.

He bends his head and kisses Jensen's mouth.

*~*~*

For a moment, Jensen feels like he's in one of his dreams again; he's dreamed about this the way he dreams about flying. He steps closer, opens his mouth, breathes in Jared's familiar after-set smells of flowery shampoo and deodorant and makeup remover while Jared's warm, skilled tongue flickers into his mouth. But when he reaches up to touch Jared's face, Jared _hums_, a noise that Jensen's subconscious has never attributed to him before, and Jensen's hand drops to Jared's chest to push him away gently.

"Jared," he says, his voice low and serious, not daring to look up, knowing the lust in Jared's eyes will weaken his resolve.

"Jensen," Jared says back, his voice warm and impossibly joyous. Startled, Jensen looks up to see affection and happiness, and yes, desire too, but mostly that sheer delight dancing in Jared's eyes, and when Jared pulls Jensen back up against him, Jensen goes, stretching up for Jared's mouth, because now he knows Jared _means it_.

It's clumsy and eager and happy, kissing Jared; sometimes it feels like Jared's trying to actually _eat_ his face, and sometimes Jensen just tries to lift Jared's new hum out of his throat with his tongue, swallow it down. Jared starts pawing at him, pulling his shirt out of his jeans and rubbing a big palm over his ribs, his back, his heart, his belly, too excited for a smooth, slow stroking up and down. But the clumsy groping is somehow only proof that it's _Jared_, that Jared _wants_ this, wants to touch him all over, and Jensen tries to wiggle closer and undo Jared's stupid belt buckle at the same time. He somehow gets his feet tangled with Jared's and knocks him back against the counter, still kissing him fervently.

Jared laughs into his mouth, pushes him back enough to kiss him hard, twice, and then leans his forehead against Jensen's, hand sliding down to his ass, pulling their hips together. Jensen grins as he feels Jared hot and hard against his hip. "That a Colt in your pocket?"

"Naw," Jared says, soft. "I'm just happy to see you."

"Really? I never woulda guessed." He licks at Jared's mouth and pushes against his shoulders, standing upright again. Jared follows him, like he can't stand to lose the contact, and it makes Jensen shiver inside. He puts his arms up around Jared's neck, even if it does make him the girl, and tangles his hands in that soft, shaggy hair, reaches up for a long, slow kiss. When they finally pull apart Jared's humming again, low in his throat, like he's so unutterably satisfied with this moment that he can't help but make noise.

Jensen rocks his hips against Jared's, and the humming goes up in pitch just before it disappears; Jared moans instead and starts biting his way down Jensen's neck. Jensen's body is alive and thrumming by now, and with every little nip a jolt goes straight to his cock, making him rock just that little bit harder up against Jared. Jared gets down to his collar and tries to nose underneath it, making a fucking _hilarious_ noise when he can't fit his jaw in there.

"Take it off, dumbass," Jensen pants, twisting his hips up against Jared's and squirming his fingers under Jared's shirt. He was meaning to lead by example, but then he got distracted by all the warm, smooth skin under there. Jared jerks at the material, trying to twitch the buttons out, and Jensen's hands crawl higher, t-shirt riding up on his wrists as he rubs his fingertips over muscle and bone. Jared finally gets the top button free just when Jensen needs him to raise his arms, and once his shirt is off he dives for Jensen's waist and pulls shirt and undershirt off in one go.

Their arms drop around one another, cupping shoulder blades, skimming spines, and Jensen slides one hand down the back of Jared's jeans and pinches sharply. Jared yelps, and Jensen laughs; Jared retaliates by swinging him around so his back's to the kitchen door and walking him backwards, still nibbling one ear and thumbing open the snap on Jensen's jeans. He shoves them down, and Jensen stumbles as they catch around his knees, and Jared grins into his neck.

Jensen thinks about standing on his dignity for about a tenth of a second, but Jared's skin is _right there_ and he'll have to stop touching it if he decides to be proud. He hops a little, shoving his jeans down with his feet, one leg then the other, and skids a little as he steps on them while tugging Jared toward the bedroom. Jared steps on them, too, and outright slips, knocking Jensen down with him, and they fall to the ground.

There's a frozen moment, and then Jensen realizes they've automatically assumed the stunt positions they were trained to, for when Sam knocks Dean out of the way of something: Jared's hand cushioning his head, Jensen catching them and breaking their fall with his hand, elbow. He starts to laugh, and taps Jared's wrist the way he does to indicate the moment they'll roll up and take up their positions back-to-back, and Jared starts laughing too.

They're still laughing as their lips brush, caress, collide. Jensen slicks his tongue into Jared's mouth, hot and wet and messy and Jared's mouth drops open to let him in, with a deep and wordless sound of appreciation. Jensen sweeps his hands down Jared's back to tuck his fingers into Jared's waistband. He shoves at Jared's jeans and boxers, hands tangling in the cloth; he snorts into Jared's neck when his fingers get caught in the hem of his underwear.

Jared pokes him in the ribs with one finger. He shifts over Jensen, probably to tickle him, but lifting up on his elbows brushes his cock against Jensen's, and he honest-to-god _whimpers_ instead. Jensen would mock him, but his own dick is jumping a little too wildly for him to have any room to talk. He squirms up against Jared, flexing his fingers against the hard muscle of Jared's ass. Jared's dick and hip are slick with sweat and precome, and Jensen's slipping against him hot and happy.

Jared moans and his dick rubs against Jensen's stomach, big and hard and desperate. Jensen's pretty sure he's going to embarrass himself pretty soon, so he moves his hand to Jared's cock and starts pulling, rough and fast, flicking his nail against the head. It's over in a few quick strokes, all of Jensen's attention focused on making Jared feel good until come erupts sticky and thick over his hand. He follows Jared over the edge, shaking with it, clinging to Jared, sweet and hot—and still tinged with a slight satisfaction that he didn't come first.

They lie panting in the middle of the hallway, grinning at each other like loons, and there's a whimper from the kitchen door. Jared twists around and Jensen leans up to see Harley and Sadie peering at them with their heads tilted to one side, as if to ask "What are you doing on the floor?"

But the dogs aren't really the type to question good fortune for long. Harley woofs and both of them spring for him and Jared, nosing at their necks and licking their faces, and it's too much, they're laughing again, shoving the dogs away and pulling each other up, standing close and half-dressed in the hall. Jensen tugs Jared up against him and licks into his smile, their hands coming up to cup each others' faces as they kiss, slow and easy and perfect.

Sometimes they have to drop a hand to bat away a friendly nose or push Sadie out from between them, but Jensen doesn't mind.


	9. Epilogue: the Kripked Fangirl

"Jared, _please_ don't--"

"You lost the bet," Jared points out, patting him on the ass. "Besides, we owe them a lot. You owe them a lot."

Jensen groans and makes a face at himself in the mirror, where he's trying to make his hair behave itself for the panel. Damn Jared and his fucking big hands, making him come in less than three minutes. That's just pathetic. He probably deserves public humiliation.

Just not this particular public humiliation. "Modest, aren't we?"

Jared laughs. "You love me and you know it."

"I do," Jensen admits grudgingly. "I'm just not sure I love you this much."

"Jensen. These are my friends. They're the reason I pulled my head out of my ass. I wanna give them this."

Jensen sighs. "I can shove you off, right?"

Jared grins. "Damn straight."

"_Fiiine_."

*~*~*

"Yeah, I love you too, bitch," Jared says, and reaches over to pull at Jensen's head, giving him a smack on the lips that echoes through the mikes.

The room goes absolutely silent and still, except for a few small, desperate whimpers.

"Get off me, asshole," Jensen grumbles, shoving him off and grinning like it's all a big joke. Eric grins, too, and makes some sorta comment about a big happy family, and the panel keeps going.

It isn't till the panel's over and the fangirls start to get outside the room that the screaming begins.

Jensen's pretty sure the lobby is still echoing when they leave two days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC, and would like to read more like it, or if you have questions about the fics referenced here, you can go here: [BitchfaceTM on Delicio (Recs for the J2 Beginner)](http://del.icio.us/BitchfaceTM); yes, folks, they all exist.
> 
>  
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> FURTHER NOTE TO READERS: Juice817 the Gloriously Talented has recorded a podbook of _Common Knowledge_. If you would like to listen to this story being read (and sung) beautifully, you can go [here](http://juice817.livejournal.com/202103.html) for a chapter-by-chapter mp3 recording, or [here](http://community.livejournal.com/podslash/98981.html) for a podbook in m4b format, with cover art by Cybel


	10. Author's Notes

I have a lot of gratitude to send out. Seedyapartment permitted me to quote. Ladyjanelly sympathized with and encouraged me when I discovered I had no control of the monster. Kashmir1 (unknowingly) contributed to both the conception and the (very different) execution of the idea when she hosted her [Tin Hat Party](http://kashmir1.livejournal.com/716905.html). Carlanime gave me an excellent once-over when I was freaking out, and suggested that if I was going to write Jared learning about the fandom, I might as well let other beginners follow the links. Spnstoryfinders suggested classics, including a few I'd never read. The open letter in chapter six ("Fangirl Online") is directly lifted from an LJ entry by Shinywhimsy, with her permission. Flamingsword has been a fabulous cheerleader and support system all the way.

I owe enormous thanks to Lemmealone, who acted excited when I told her I was writing my first J2 fic, and offered up her Christmas vacation as a beta's sacrifice. She lent me slasher!Sandy, first for an icon and then to appear in this fic (though she had a smaller presence than I'd originally planned), and kickstarted my lagging writing with her [Jensen-lovefest](http://lemmealone.livejournal.com/444897.html). She then proceeded to battle both computer meltdowns and my dancing around her ankles like an eager puppy with cheer and fortitude. She pointed out a zillion unnecessary commas, and made my sentences better, and pushed me into writing real porn, and generally completely rocked. I dedicate Jared's lesbian fantasies to her, with my love and gratitude.

This started out as a tiny, cracktastic little bunny. I intended maybe 1500 words. (Also, instant supply-closet sex.) But these boys, they have minds of their own, and they wanted to show the world we're right about their being _in love_, not just about their being hot for each other. I think they made the right choice for me—I hope it's different enough from the standard trope that it works. However, I do wish they had managed to get their point across in a few thousand less words.

BitchfaceTM's delicio account—aka Lu's J2 Beginners' Rec List—is [here](http://del.icio.us/bitchfacetm). I did try my hardest to restrict myself to completed fics, because many people (myself among them) count WiPs amongst the work of the devil (not that it stops me from reading them, most of the time.) However, I did include one, WriteAtMidnight's _Sick 'Verse_, because everyone I consulted suggested it as a central work of the fandom. In general, I asked for input, reviewed my old favorites, and put together a list that I think expresses the essence of our boys, their relationship, and what we like to pretend is seekritly going on. If you have any further suggestions, please let me know.

Please be aware that so far as I know, every word of this is fictional, and that if there really are such fans as J24eva, Babyimpala, et al, I apologize heartily for inserting them without permission...but I dare you to tell me they act any differently.


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